The Jealousy Game
by everlovingdeer
Summary: "Come on," he cajoled, "you don't have any reason to be jealous, Graz." "Oh please," I grumbled, elbowing him so sharply that he withdrew his hand and rubbed at his side. "What makes you think that I'm jealous?"
1. The Jealousy Game

Sometimes, I couldn't help but judge my choice of friends. Occasionally, I wondered what was wrong with my judgement of people that I'd picked the sort of friends that continued to bug me about the same thing for months, despite my having said I didn't want to talk about this. But then I remembered how Desirae was always willing to risk sneaking down to the kitchens for me when I was feeling peckish and the way that Carissa had held me steady when my grandfather passed last year. They were good friends and because they were good friends, I could put up with occasional badgering.

"I'm telling you," Desirae started, sharing a look with Carissa who sat on my other side. Rowena, I'd brought this all on myself by sitting between them, "Scamander likes you."

"Oh please," I scoffed, glancing across the common room to my fellow sixth year as he talked to his friends. "Come on Odenkirk, just how often are we going to have this same conversation before you realise how _wrong _you are?"

No Ravenclaw liked to hear that they were wrong – especially if you couldn't back it up with proof. Desirae was the same, scowling at me but gesturing for Carissa to try and 'talk some sense into Graz'. As if, in this situation, I was the one that needed to see sense.

"Come on Graz," Carissa nudged me with her shoulder, "you know how downright oblivious boys can be when it comes to stuff like that. The entire house knows that he likes you, but he's probably too oblivious to realise it."

"Or," I started pointedly, "this house is made up of busy bodies who are craving some drama so they're looking to find something where there is nothing. Yates, you of all people know about being a busybody."

"Now you're just being hurtful to get me to stop talking about it," she sniffed.

No, I bit my tongue to force back my retort. If I was being hurtful, I would point out how both Desirae and Carissa were experiencing problems in their relationships and were using this – me and Lysander – as an easy escape so they didn't have to focus on their relationship problems. I could have pointed out their lack of emotional maturity but I kept that to myself.

"I'm telling you," I started instead of voicing my inner thoughts, "I'm fairly certain that he doesn't like me. So, can we _please _stop talking about this in the middle of the bloody common room where _anyone _can hear us?. And can we instead focus on the Alchemy coursework like we planned to? Please?"

Desirae and Carissa shared another eyeroll and I _swore _I heard Desirae murmur something about 'textbook deflection' under her breath. Just how was I supposed to tell her the truth without outing myself? Without letting them both know just how devastated I was to know the truth? Because the truth was, I _knew _Lysander didn't like me back – I'd heard the words leave his mouth with my own ears. And there was no denying that.

_I'd picked up the most horrendous habit of lingering in the classroom of the lessons I shared with Lysander but **didn't **share with my friends. Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy granted me the time to be truthful for once about how I felt about Lysander without worrying about my friends ribbing me for it. In these lessons, I could steal glances at him when I took breaks from my notes. And when the lesson ended, I was slow to finish packing my things, and I swore it wasn't my mind that was playing tricks on me – because he was looking back. More often than not, he was looking back._

_At first, I'd doubted it , horrified that maybe he'd figured everything out. But then I realised, that when I snuck glances, he was almost always looking at me first. Before I could get my hopes up, they were dashed. _

_I'd had the misfortune of overhearing Lysander talking to his friends as they prepared to head back to the common room after their last lesson. Lingering behind and speaking to my Arithmancy Professor, I couldn't help how my ears were deviating from the advice I was supposed to be listening to and instead picked up on my name. Just like that, my curiosity was piqued. His friends were teasing him about me – like my friends teased me. They were goading him about the 'constant hard on you carry for Graz' (gross…) and the way 'you smile like a downright fool whenever she's near' (sweet) and I held my breath. Before they could speak another word, Lysander had rounded on them. _

_When he spoke next, it was sharper than I'd heard before and firm, "I don't. So, drop it."_

_It was then, that I wondered if you could audibly hear a heart break. I took his words at face value because, why wouldn't I and accepted them. Now everything was sorted out, there was no need for any misunderstandings on my part and I could move on. I had to. _

Perhaps Desirae and Carissa picked up on my silence and decided to humour me. Forcing myself to smile, I listened as they started to debate the best way to go about tackling our Alchemy coursework. From her bag, Desirae handed me a quill and the parchment – insisting that I had the best handwriting. Diligently taking notes, I added my own contributions and tried my best to pay attention. I really did. Except, there was a lull in the discussion, where we were all supposed to be busy thinking. But I wasn't. My eyes instead flickered towards the sixth year boys and without wanting to, my eyes met Lysander's. He offered me a smile and I turned away without returning it; there were more important things that I needed to focus on.

* * *

Become a Prefect, everyone said. It would be fun, they all said. You'll be able to stay out past curfew, take points from whoever pisses you off and get to use the Prefect's bathroom – they only ever told you about the good things. No one ever told you about late night rounds that could carry on _far _too late in the middle of the night, or that sometimes, when people flaked on their responsibilities, you'd be brought in to complete them. Which was why, because someone had informed the librarian that they wouldn't be able to fulfil their duties, and that librarian had filled our Head of House about this utter _disaster_ – I'd been brought in to fill the empty space. And because, like Desirae liked to remind me, I was too much of a people pleaser to say no, I didn't have it in me to refuse. Especially when the person asking me was the Head of House.

And so here I was, having been in this damned library for two hours now, pushing this stupid trolley and returning books to their rightful place. Sighing under my breath, I continued to push the trolley resolutely and reminded myself that once I'd returned them all, I could head back to the common room and be done with it. Bloody – become Prefect, they'd said.

Turning the corner into the Arithmancy section, I reached for two books from the top of the pile. Only, my eyes travelled down the shelves, looking for the right section but happened to linger on Lysander who was walking towards me – or even, in the direction I was in. Merlin, I was not willing to face him yet.

Replacing the books on the trolley, I started to pull it rather than pushing it, going back in the direction I'd come back from. Rather, that was what I'd intended to do. As if he could read my mind, Lysander quickly approached me and grabbed the other side of the trolley and pulled it, to keep it where it was. He watched me for a moment, cracking a bewildered smile when I sighed abruptly and let go of the trolley. Averting my eyes from those that were watching me curiously, I wondered what I'd have to do to leave him behind.

I decided to pick the books I'd previously abandoned; the last thing I needed was for Lysander to keep me lingering in the library for longer than I needed to. Grasping the books in steady hands, I was grateful that there was no outward sign at least of the resentment I felt towards Lysander – he was well within his rights to have his own feelings. But Rowena, it was annoying that his words had gotten into my head and made me wander just what it was about me that was so unlikeable that he'd been so adamant about not liking me.

"Have you been avoiding me, Graz?" Lysander asked finally.

Rolling my eyes, I tried to dart around him but the bastard moved the trolley so it was facing sideways, completely blocking the path. Giving up, I raised my eyes to his and asked, "Why in Rowena's name would I be avoiding you?"

Even facing my snippy tone, Lysander just grinned. Leaning teasingly towards me, he said, "I don't know, you should be telling me the reason why."

Shaking my head, I grumbled, "Why don't _you _tell me the reason why you're here and bugging me when all I want to do is put these books away?"

"Don't worry, I won't keep you long."

Annoyed, I waited, knowing that I'd only get out of this once I'd heard him out. Lysander, likely surprised that I was conceding so soon, turned the trolley again so it was facing the right way. But still, he planted himself firmly in my path and refused to move. I almost said something to him, and perhaps I would have if the teasing glint of his eyes hadn't fled from his eyes and if he hadn't suddenly been looking at me so seriously in a way, I was certain he'd never done before. But _still, _he continued to prolong this unnecessary silence.

Eventually, I demanded, "What do you want, Scamander? Spit it out already."

"Alright fine." He took another moment, only a second this time before he nodded. "Go to Hogsmeade with me – this weekend and not as friends."

What the hell kind of twist was this? Especially with what I'd overheard leave _his _mouth. Really, he was one of those people that never did what you thought they'd do and _Merlin, _I almost wanted to ask him what was wrong with him.

Instead, I narrowed my eyes to ask, "Why do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me if you don't even like me in that way?"

Lysander froze for a moment, as if he was unable to process what I'd just said. Only he _could _process it because of the way his eyes darted away from mine. Clearly, he'd had no idea that I'd even overheard him. But still I didn't expand on it – I let him think whatever he wanted to think. I was certainly done; I refused to be one of those people that got their heart hurt by chasing after someone who didn't return their feelings. I had too much sense for that.

Eventually, Lysander cleared his throat, asking, "You don't like me in that way?"

I wondered briefly where the hell he'd heard that I liked him and just when he'd managed to overhear it – because he'd probably overheard like I had. I'd have to watch my mouth from now on.

"I don't," the lie left me easily. Carissa insisted that I was a rubbish liar, but from the way Lysander stepped away from me, maybe I wasn't so bad at it after all.

I waited a moment longer, just for him to step aside and then I was focused once more on returning all the books to their rightful place. The sooner I did this, the sooner I could head back to the common room and try and work out just when he'd managed to overhear my feelings for him. Rowena, and I was so certain that I'd been _so careful_.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, the Ravenclaw common room was the worst place to get any work done. It was usually so overcrowded and either filled with the sounds of a raucous debate, or there were people reading in the corner who were sensitive – _far too sensitive _– to the sound of a quill scraping against parchment. Of course, there were those rare occasions where during a free period you could get some work done. But it was always a risk because if you had a free period, chances were some of your dormmates had a free period as well and would bug you. Unfortunately for me, Carissa was the friend that was intent on bugging me.

She knew just as well as I did that we had a Muggle Studies essay due tomorrow and she knew I wanted to look over the essay one more time before having to hand in it. Carissa had listened to me complain about the subject often enough to know that I wanted to do well on this. Of all people, she should've understood how difficult it was to find the common room so empty, so really why was she so intent on irritating me?

"What?" I asked with a sigh, shaking my head and turning to look at Carissa who had pulled a chair from the nearby table to join me at mine. There was something about her smile, both coy and smug at the same time that had me knowing I wasn't going to be getting anymore work done, and I settled my quill down with an irritated sigh. "Please try to be concise in your retelling of whatever story is so important that you had to share it with me whilst I'm so clearly busy."

"You'll never guess what," she started slowly, leaning in towards me. She peeked around the common room, eyes skimming over the handful of students that were scattered around the room, to make sure that no one was listening in. Honestly, why would anyone be listening to our conversations?

…

Only, someone would have to have been listening to our conversation at one point in order for Lysander to have gotten an inkling into my feelings. For all my complaining, Carissa had the right idea; maybe I hadn't been careful enough in the first place.

Still, when she didn't say another word, I turned in my chair to face her. "Well?"

For a moment, Carissa's face clouded over with hesitation. It seemed that she was going to backtrack, to refuse to tell me after having dragged this issue out for so long. She decided against it, shaking her head and sounding apologetic as she admitted, "Lysander is going on date to Hogsmeade with Rose Weasley."

I knew that Carissa was watching my face, scrutinising my reaction so I did my best to give her none. Turning away from her, I picked up my quill once more and made an amendment to my essay. We were in the middle of the common room, far too exposed for me to show a real reaction. Although, how did I feel? Of course, there was the bitter stab of jealousy that he was going with someone else to Hogsmeade. But there was also resentment and a bit of disgust that he'd asked _me _just yesterday to go with him to Hogsmeade. Was it so easy for him to move on? Or did he really feel next to nothing for me? In the end, did any of it matter when he was going to Hogsmeade with Rose Weasley? And Merlin, Rose Weasley was probably using _him _to make Scorpius Malfoy jealous – maybe Lysander could suffer a little.

Still, I knew that Carissa was looking at me and waiting for a response. So, I simply continued to read my essay and murmured a disinterred, "Is he, really?"

"Are you not bothered by it at all?" Carissa asked uncertainly, leaning in towards me. Slowly, she searched the side of my face and her eyes must have lingered on the way I was gnawing on my bottom lip. "Alright, let's not talk about him anymore. Do you want me to look over your essay for you? Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help?"

"Thanks," I said eventually, sliding the parchment over to her. I watched as Carissa read my work and I should've been concentrating on her reaction, on making sure that there was nothing wrong with my essay. But instead, my thoughts continued to stray back to Lysander eventhough I wanted to think of anything but him. It didn't matter to me who he was taking to Hogsmeade – it shouldn't have mattered. And yet it did.

* * *

I knew better than this –

I had more sense than this –

Righteous Rowena, I had _much_ more sense than this, but here I was, walking through Hogsmeade with my friends. At first, I'd been reluctant to join them for the trip round Hogsmeade on the off chance that I happened to bump into Lysander on his date – double date, as Desirae had told me. But then, something inside me had whispered what if I _did _bump into them; what better way was there for me to watch as Lysander was strung along like a string? Desirae, in the middle of the night, after I'd confessed everything, insisted that he deserved to be played like a fiddle. I happened to agree.

And so, here I was, in Hogsmeade and keeping an eye out for a gaggle of four people that I shouldn't have been looking for. It would only hurt me more in the end. Still, I kept an eye out even as Desirae and Carissa ushered me into Puddifoots for some hot chocolate. The shop, severely overcrowded but welcoming nonetheless was a regular haunt of ours. So many of the people at school stayed away from the shop because they had misconceptions about it or because it simply wasn't their type, and they overlooked the calming beauty of the shop. Unless it was the weekend of Valentine's day – if it was, then the shop was to be avoided at all costs.

We settled into our usual seats at the corner of the room, waiting for our hot chocolates – topped with whipped cream, marshmallows and chocolate shavings – to arrive. I listened quietly, laughing slightly as Carissa confessed the trouble her brother was going to in order to get his heavily pregnant fiancée to marry him. When our drinks arrived, we settled into a silence that lasted a few moments until we'd taken our first sips and Merlin, the sweetness was enough to tend to any sting of jealousy.

With a curious glance around the shop, my eyes froze at the party of four that had entered the shop. My friends, realising that I'd gone still, followed my gaze and watched the double date as they sat and laughed together. Merlin, I wasn't up to this.

"Do you want to go?" Desirae asked slowly, peeking at the other table.

Even as I shook my head, Carissa asked, "Are you sure? There's no point in being here if you're going to be upset the entire time."

"There's no need," I insisted, finally managing to tear my eyes away from them for the first time since they'd entered the shop. "We always get a hot chocolate from Puddifoots when it's cold outside. Why let a boy ruin it for us?"

"She's got a point," Desirae conceded as we settled into our usual routine once more.

Rather, we tried our best to. But if my friends noticed that I was quieter than normal, then they said nothing about it. They knew, even if I didn't speak it, that jealousy was eating me from the inside out and that I wanted to run away. That in that very moment, it was taking all the courage I had to stay there in the same room as Lysander and Rose Weasley and they respected it. Though, it was getting too much.

I watched, sneaking glances, as Malfoy walked into the shop and proceeded to argue with Weasley. Weasley stormed out and it was the break I needed to give up, to throw the rag in. Mumbling something under my breath about forgetting something in the castle, I hurried out of the shop. I reasoned to myself that I'd waited until the date had finished – it certainly wasn't as if the date could've continued with Weasley being led away by another boy. Walking out of the shop and into the cold air of the street, I let the cold air wash over me and slowed my paces.

Breathing deeply, I continued on my way back to the castle; whilst I couldn't hide away from Lysander in the common room, I could certainly hide away in my dorm. And that was what I planned to do until I could rationalise the confusion in my mind. That was, until there was a loud call of my name. A call so loud that it brought the street to a still for a few seconds. To make matters worse, all the students in the street looked at me.

Mortified to the bone, I turned sharply around to look at Lysander who was striding towards me. A little shrilly, I demanded, "Why are you putting on a scene in the middle of the street?"

"You put on a scene by storming out of the shop," he said simply.

"Oh please," I scoffed with narrowed eyes. "How exactly did I put on a scene?"

"I think you're aware." He crept closer still, and I easily picked up on the teasing lilt of his words. Merlin, I was not in the mood for any of this. "Rowena, I have to admit that I was flattered Graz, to see you get to ruffled up with your jealousy."

"Look," I cut in abruptly, stopping his teasing in one go. He took an aborted step toward me, "I am _really _not in the mood for this."

For a long moment, Lysander just watched me and then when it seemed like he was going to say something else, I turned quickly once more. I walked back to the castle and this time; he didn't attempt to call my name. I was thankful for it, knowing that I'd rise to the bait if he called for me once more.

In that moment, I resented him for a lot. I resented that he made me burn inside with jealousy, and I resented the way his actions lowered my self-esteem and altered the way I thought about myself. Perhaps the issue lied more with myself, that my self-esteem was so easily swayed by someone else. For now, all I needed was the time alone to think.

* * *

When Arithmancy, my last lesson of the day, came to an end, I lingered behind to speak to the Professor. Waiting until everyone had left the classroom and pointedly paying no attention to the way Lysander walked slowly – slower than normal – out of the classroom. Rather, I ignored him as I walked to the Professor's desk and asked for some more advice regarding the comments that had been left at the bottom of my work. Making note of all the advice on a separate piece of parchment, I thanked the professor for all their help and finally went to leave the classroom.

"Graz," the call of my name sounded _just _as I reached the threshold. Startled out of tucking my things into my bag, my eyes searched the corridor and finally lingered on Lysander who stood on the opposite side.

I met his eyes for a fraction of a second before turning to continue on my way to the Ravenclaw common room. Not that I made it far. I made it less than a few paces away from the classroom before Lysander called my name again.

"Are you planning on running away from me again?" he teased from behind me. I cast a glance at him from over my shoulder, realising that he was walking slowly after me. "Is that it? Are you running away from me, Graz?"

Scoffing aloud, I stopped in my step. Turning to face him, I narrowed my eyes at him. Lysander stood, a good metre or so away from me with a face that was the picture of innocence. The longer I waited, the more smug his expression got as if he was pleased to be getting so obviously under my skin. And of course, he was, the bloody bastard.

"Scamander," I started with obvious annoyance, "If you're going to be bugging me the entire way back to the common room, then fall into step beside me or stop lingering behind me like an irritating shadow."

With that, I turned once more and walked determinedly once more to the common room. Like I knew he would, Lysander didn't continue to linger behind me. Rather, he quickly sped up until he was walking by my side. The silence wrapped so heavily around me that I almost didn't feel the weight of Lysander's arm when he draped it over my shoulder. I moved to shrug out of it but Lysander remained firm, drawing me into his side and ignoring the disgruntled look I threw at him.

"Come on," he cajoled, "you don't have any reason to be jealous, Graz."

"Oh please," I grumbled, elbowing him so sharply that he withdrew his hand and rubbed at his side. "What makes you think that I'm jealous?"

"You stormed out of Puddifoots," he reminded me as if I could've possibly forgotten.

"I did _not _storm out," I insisted, ignoring the way he rolled his eyes at my continued refusal. "I had work I needed to do in the castle so I just left."

"Liar," Lysander chimed, falling silent when I glanced sharply at him. My look might have silenced him, but it certainly did nothing for the smug smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Was there any reason you waited to walk me back to the common room? Or are you just intent on bothering me?"

"You've answered your own question." Lysander reached out a hand as if to grab for my robe sleeve. I ducked out of his way, warning him with my eyes not to take another step towards me. He held his hands up in surrender, "Like you said, I'm here to walk to back to the common room _and _bother you whilst doing it."

"Keep it up and I'll hex you," I warned as the entrance to the common room _thankfully _came into view.

With quickened paces, I approached the knocker and answered the riddle quicker than I had ever done before. I wanted the door to swing shut behind me, but obviously it didn't and obviously Lysander entered the common room behind me.

But I paid him no mind. Instead, I scanned the common room, looking for Desirae and Carissa. I found them both sitting in front of one of the bookshelves. I hurried to their side, taking a seat and paying no mind to the bewildered looks they were throwing me.

"What's the matter?" Desirae was the first to ask, her eyes darting behind me to where I'd previously been standing. "Did Scamander say something?"

"He said a lot," I scowled, shaking my head. Turning in my seat to face Carissa, I held her hand between both of mine. "Let me borrow your brother?"

* * *

Carissa's brother, a seventh year Ravenclaw, was the best person to use for a plot to make Lysander jealous. Whilst my plan wasn't the most mature, I was sticking to it. Especially since Carissa had roped him into helping me. Her brother, Keenan, had always been a little prickly with the sort of personality that made you think it was lucky he'd been born with the face and the height he had. Keenan was one of those brothers who picked on their sisters as if their life depended on it. And, by association, he picked on his sister's friends. As one of those friends, I rarely spoke to him – rarely _wanted _to speak to him especially after he'd pulled the most horrible prank on Desirae and me when we'd been staying over for a sleepover. Although, if you asked me, from the way his eyes lingered after Desirae, he was biding his time until she broke up with her current boyfriend. That was an issue for another time.

"Remind me to never again tell Carissa 'I owe you' until the day I die," Keenan grumbled, turning to whisper in my ear.

"Oh please," I muttered, shuffling under the weight of his arm – Merlin, this was awkward. "If I was Desirae, you wouldn't be complaining?"

"Speaking of Desi – when do you think she'll notice?"

"She won't ever notice." Turning to look at Keenan, I frowned as I admitted, "She's not very perceptive when it comes to thinks like this."

"Figures." Keenan glanced around the room, eyes settling on the other side of the common room where I knew Lysander was sitting with his friends. I hadn't dared look at him since Keenan had joined me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Remind me never to use jealousy as a way of getting Desirae to notice me because Rowena, Scamander's looking at me like he's going to kill me."

"He won't kill you, you overdramatic bastard."

"As far as you know."

"I'm sure if he killed you, it would be because you did something to him and deserved it." He threw me a mock offended look. "Don't look at me like that because it's not going to work on me, Yates."

I tried my best not to do it, I _really _tried. But my eyes 'casually' scanned across the room, as if I wasn't doing anything. When really, I was stealing glances at Lysander, who true to Keenan's words looked pissed beyond compare. And Rowena, if that didn't validate me a little and reassure me that no matter how petty, this jealousy ploy was working. It was immature and it was making me second guess how mature I thought I was, but apparently it was the only way to get through to Scamander. The idiot would rethink blabbering after me again.

Keenan cleared his throat beside me, making me realise that my subtle glance wasn't subtle at all. In fact, I'd been holding his eyes for a while. I abruptly looked away back to Keenan who looked far too amused.

"I think it's time you look back at me." Keenan's shoulder shook with laughter. "You're really bad at this. Do something that can be thought of as flirting."

"Flirting?"

"Get a move on, Graz."

"Mind your tone, Yates," I murmured, reaching a hand up to brush the hair away from his forehead.

Distantly, I heard the sound of a quill snapping in half. From the way Keenan was snickering under his breath, it was Lysander's quill. Merlin, I did my best not to return that smile; this really was too easy. If this worked so well, then this was likely to become a really bad habit of mine.

"I need to talk to you." Lysander.

My eyes left Keenan, looking back to Lysander who was standing awkwardly in front of us. When I still didn't answer, and when Keenan very obviously tightened his arm around me, Lysander cleared his throat pointedly. I would've responded to him then, if Keenan hadn't squeezed my shoulder in a silent cue to keep me silent.

"Graz?" Lysander started pointedly, looking at me and waiting. "Well?"

"Sorry – what?"

"Come on." He reached down then, lifting Keenan's hand from my shoulder and dropping it in his lap. Taking my hand, Lysander hoisted me easily to my feet. "We need to talk."

"We need to talk?" I repeated incredulously, following behind Lysander who was still holding my hand.

Experimentally, I tried to pull my hand back but he held firm, right until we were out in the corridor. And then, with the common room behind us, he finally dropped my hand. Crossing his arms over his chest, Lysander watched me for a long moment as I continued to wait. Eventually, he sighed and pointed his finger at me.

"We," Lysander gestured between us, "are _not _doing this again."

"This?" I played dumb, "What are you on about Scamander? Can we wrap this up so I can head back inside?"

"We're not using jealousy anymore," he started, dropping his hand to his side. "This is getting out of hand."

"Out of hand?" Before my eyes I could see the irritation beginning to creep into his features. "What are you talking about? Are you _jealous_?"

"No, I –"

I went to head back into the common room, "Well –"

He ducked forward once more, grabbing my hand and holding on tight. I searched his eyes, surprised at how earnestly he was looking back at me. Swallowing thickly, he said softly, "Ok, ok, no more jealousy. I'm done using it as a tactic. What about you?"

"A tactic?"

"I can't do this anymore, Graz," he admitted. Lysander held up a pinkie finger, "I'm willing to promise to never try to make you jealous again as long as you promise the same and we can just move forward. Together."

I dropped the act, allowing a bit of insecurity to creep into my voice as I asked, "You promise?"

"I swear." He continued to hold my eyes, silently prompting me to reach out and interlink my pinkie finger with his.

We stayed there for a few short moments before I removed my hand from his. I planned to return to the common room, to thank Keenan for helping me bring about the end of all of this. But Lysander caught my hand once more and drew me into him. I started, surprised as I found myself cradled safely against his chest. For a moment, I hesitated before returning his embrace.

"Thank Rowena," he murmured as I tucked my head under his chin. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to Lorcan."


	2. Epilogue: 9 Years Later

_9 YEARS LATER _

I absolutely did not deserve the surname Scamander. It was a requirement that anyone who had the name Scamander following theirs loved animals, magical creatures and all sorts of creepy crawlies. And I did not. _Merlin, _I did not. Lysander continued to make fun of me for my complete disinterest – and sometimes, the utter fear, I had for all creatures. Maybe I should have rethought the whole becoming a Scamander thing. It had taken some time but we'd compromised that Lysander wasn't allowed a single creatures in our home. Well – we'd compromised and now, one of the rooms in our home was turning into a menagerie that I resolutely did _not _enter.

To make matters worse, every year the Scamander family congregated in their grandfather's home for Christmas and the New Year. I'd always managed to get out of staying the full two weeks because I technically wasn't a Scamander and I could get out of it by citing work issues. Now, one year in, I wasn't _forced _to stay but I knew it would cause some friction if I didn't. It was better to do whatever I could to avoid causing any troubles.

And because I wasn't causing any troubles, I was hanging back as Lysander rushed ahead to greet an Erumpent that he claimed was his absolute favourite of all the creatures his grandfather raised. Apparently, they'd been born on the same day. But the sight of the ridiculously massive creature with a bleeding horn that could run me through if it decided to turn against me, was enough to have me keeping a fair distance. A _fair, _fair distance.

When he was done reacquainting himself with the Erumpent, Lysander looked back at me with a knowing smile. "Come on."

"No way in hell." Shaking my head adamantly, I watched as he approached me. "No, no. Stay right there."

"Come _on_," he insisted again. Taking my hand securely in his, Lysander flashed me a smile that was all mischief, "What kind of Scamander is scared of an Erumpent of all things?"

"One that knows how likely she is to get _stabbed_," I hissed under my breath as I let him lead me forward towards the Erumpent that was watching us with cautious eyes. It lifted its head, sniffing the air cautiously and I clung to Lysander's hand. "I _knew _I shouldn't have changed my surname."

"Too late to back out now," he teased once more as we came to a stop in front of the expectant Erumpent.

Lysander took our joined hands, raising them in the air and waited. I held my breath, watching as the Erumpent – who probably had a name and I probably needed to ask Lysander what it was – but it came towards me and nuzzled into my open palm. Starting at the contact, I turned my face into Lysander's chest and burrowed into him at the feel of its leathery skin. Stuttering out a shaking breath, I peeked up at the Erumpent who was satisfied that we'd made our acquaintance and was plodding away. I breathed an extremely obvious sigh of relief.

"I keep telling you – no creatures are going to harm you if you mean no harm to them." At the sight of my incredulous eye roll, he said, "But anyway, Erumpents at least are known to be calm creatures. Most of the time."

"Most of the time," I repeated, pointing a finger at him. "You said it – not me. My fear is completely valid and you know it."

He shook his head but didn't say another word. Rather, he took my hand and proceeded to lead me further down his grandfather's garden to where some of the other creatures stayed. I tried to plant my feet to the ground, trying to stop him from moving me further along so he could introduce me to _another _creature. But the annoying bastard was beefed up from all the physical work he did to look after these creatures and he hauled me easily. In the face of all my protests, he tugged me closer and kissed my temple.

"I promise, nothing is going to happen," he swore earnestly. I searched his eyes, looking for even a fraction of hesitation that would have me returning to the house before he could say something else to try to convince me. There was none. "Come on, princess, let me help you get over this fear. You of all people know about overcoming fears together. Remember, you helped me with my fear of heights?"

"That wasn't my fault," I whined, turning into his chest again. "Lorcan strapped you onto that broom and sent you off."

"And you looked after me when I cried like a baby," he reminded me steadily. "And then, you helped me overcome my fears in a much healthier way so let me help you."

"Rowena, I had no idea you were such a sweet talker when I agreed to date you." Drawing back from him, I held out my hand expectantly. He took it instantly, knowing how quickly I could change my mind. Tucking my hand between both of his, he began to lead me further on again. "But you have to promise me that you're not going to let go of my hand the entire time."

"I swear," he said solemnly, lifting my hand and kissing it. "Now come on, I want you to meet the Niffler colony next, but you might want to hide anything shiny that you're wearing. They can be kind of light fingered."

"I mean, they're not going to take the studs out of my ears, are they?"

"You know what," Lysander reached up and removed my earrings and tucked them safely into the back pocket of his jeans, "better safe than sorry when it comes to Nifflers."

"_Lysander –_"

"It's alright, it's alright. I'll be right by your side the entire time."


End file.
